


it's you I hate the most

by llien



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fear of Discovery, M/M, Trust Issues, Unreliable Narrator, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llien/pseuds/llien
Summary: Sora’s hand moved up in his peripherals, and Vanitas looked back to find Sora hiding a smile.“Don’t—”Vanitas began with a hiss, but he didn’t know how to say what he felt, meant. How to label the indignation that rose as Sora clearly mocked him.But when Sora dropped his hand, the smile was still there, something soft in the corners of it, tucked dear as his cheeks dimpled, and Vanitas grappled with useless fury that he couldn’t explain.





	it's you I hate the most

**Author's Note:**

> “And the emptiness turns its face to us  
> and whispers,  
> “I am not empty, I am open.””  
> -Tomas Tranströmer
> 
> To choose to trust despite fear. 
> 
> These two videos are the theme for this fic!  
>  _[The beach at night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kT-f2mfNL7s&t=2351s)_ and _[the middle of the world.](https://youtu.be/yhrh-4TpFKE)_

The ocean at night was terrifying.

Vanitas had never seen it before, and he stood wary of the surf creeping up on the beach, as if it were alive. The tide of demons was aptly named, he thought, as he stared at its namesake. 

Apprehension curled tight in his stomach, made him back away another foot. The cool sea breeze slid too close along his bare arms, the turtle neck sleeveless shirt they’d somehow forced him into worth shit at actually covering him up. He felt laid bare without his suit.

“It’s not scary,” Sora said beside him, and Vanitas lowered his chin, glancing at him through the corner of his eye. His expression was uncharacteristically even, eyes gazing out on the black surf. At night, he felt closer, tangible, though he stood with a healthy distance between them. It was as if Vanitas could reach with the slightest twitch of his finger, that he could turn his head aside and find Sora right there.

“I didn’t say it was,” Vanitas scowled, turning back and watching the white foam as the surf crested. 

Sora’s hand moved up in his peripherals, and Vanitas looked back to find Sora hiding a smile. _“Don’t—”_ Vanitas began with a hiss, but he didn’t know how to say what he felt, meant. How to label the indignation that rose as Sora clearly mocked him.

But when Sora dropped his hand, the smile was still there, something soft in the corners of it, tucked dear as his cheeks dimpled, and Vanitas grappled with useless fury that he couldn’t explain. He curled his hands into fists and then flexed them, ants crawling in his skin and dragging their pincers through his flesh with relish, and he exhaled a steady breath.

He felt the familiar engorged vulnerability rise in his throat and undulate until he wanted to gag, but he forced it back down. Sora stood seemingly unaffected, cool as the sea breeze ruffled his hair, soft locks caressing his cheeks before being tugged back. Vanitas felt the wind’s fingers rifle through his hair, and he wondered if he was a mirror image to Sora, or if Sora was a reflection of him.

The ocean was louder than he’d thought, a constant sound that never ceased, and he wanted to cover his ears. Everything about this was turning out to be a mistake. 

“I’ll show you,” Sora said, and Vanitas jerked his head up to find Sora moving forward, smile there but eyes too wrong, not right, unfamiliar, a puzzle piece slotted together that _fit_ but wasn’t right. Vanitas knew what Sora’s bright smiles looked like, knew the way his eyes glimmered, and this wasn’t it. He didn’t know what to make of a face all wrong or what to say or even why he cared, if maybe he was cursed to be filled to the brim with emotions he couldn’t control nor identify.

“I didn’t _ask_ you to!” Vanitas snapped, stepping forward and making sand fly, hands lashing out at empty air as his chest heaved. “You never leave me alone!” The surf crashed, a thunderous cacophony that made him want to flinch as the wind howled, but he remained steadfast, heart pounding against his ribs.

Sora didn’t turn back, hair almost black where the moonlight didn’t touch, warm skin diluted, and Vanitas felt useless words with no meaning crowd his tongue as he watched Sora walk away. Again and again, he found himself slammed with a wall of feelings he couldn’t name, couldn’t reason, and was struck mute in the face of it.

It was easy, to taunt and tease and to niggle at enemies’, to find what they wanted to hide. He could see vulnerability and he could drag it out screaming, puncture it with his teeth and nails until he felt its life give way under soft flesh. He _felt_ their weakness like the rapid heartbeat of prey beneath his hand and it was simple to render it sorn apart. 

But for some reason, his own emotions were nameless wild things that ate him alive and he wanted to run until they couldn’t find him anymore, wanted to bury them and suffocate them until finally it was quiet. Wanted to feel drowned in numb peace.

He was breathless, skin hot and eyes burning as he stared at Sora’s straight back, his thin tank top billowing in the breeze even as bronzed skin shone with reflected light, shadows deeper than usual. He looked alien. The unfamiliarity over a water he didn’t know and sounds that weren’t home made Vanitas’ skin crawl with unease.

He didn’t belong here.

Vanitas stood rooted as Sora walked on wet sand, bare feet leaving indents that faded after moments, a fragile fleeting existence that made static rise in Vanitas’ chest. The black horizon of water felt indelibly defined as stars winked, like cut out holes of stark white, and they glittered with amusement, framing Sora’s silhouette.

The surf rolled in, a thin spread that barely washed over Sora’s toes, and as Sora moved forward it pulled back and then reached forward, and it crashed into his ankles before teasingly retreating.

Sora continued to walk, and each time the surf hit him higher and higher, until his feet remained submerged. It was as if he was being swallowed up, a delicacy savoured inch by inch, and his clothes clung to him wet in the moments the ocean pulled away.

Something gripped Vanitas’ throat tight as he watched, and he wanted to reach up to claw at his skin there, rip whatever was suffocating him away.

Sora began to drag his hand along the top of the water as it grew higher, body swaying with the currents, and the sea foam trailing in his wake was soon caved in. When it firmly grasped his stomach and waist, he stopped, turning to face Vanitas.

That far out, Vanitas couldn’t really read his face anymore. He was surprised how far Sora had to go to reach that depth, had assumed the slope was steeper somehow. He licked his lips, meeting Sora’s eyes, and they stood staring. He wasn’t smiling, Vanitas was sure, but he didn’t know _what_ Sora was feeling.

His lips moved, mouthed something Vanitas couldn’t hear, and suddenly Vanitas was walking. 

He couldn’t help flinching when the waves hit his feet, a burst of weakness that made fire lick at his cheeks, but when he looked up Sora wasn’t laughing. Refusing to be cowed, or to lose this game of chicken they’d somehow begun, Vanitas continued forward. The sand was somehow firmer than he imagined a wet thing to be, packed firm beneath his soles. He glanced back to find his footprints disappearing just as quickly as Sora’s had, and he wondered how much pressure it’d take to imprint himself there forever.

It was a curious feeling. It was like the strength of the wind, but more tangible, and it was _cold_. Vanitas knew water was a dead thing, but he just as well knew that if he wandered further out, it’d swallow him whole, break his bones. 

When it hit his knees, his breath quickened, and he glanced at Sora.

“It’s okay,” Sora said, holding his hand out. That curious smile was there, _something_ tucked into its corners. “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t need your help!” Vanitas snapped back, waspish, but nonetheless he took another step.

His clothes didn’t feel wet in the water, and the momentary way they clung to his skin was quickly eased away as the waves hit him again. This far out, he could feel the undercurrent tug at him. It wasn’t particularly strong, yet. More like encouragement, a question, a suggestion of _this way,_ towards Sora.

His breathing was shakier than he liked, and he reasoned to himself that he _was not_ afraid. He had nothing to fear. It was fucking water on a beach. He could walk away at any moment. 

Then he glanced up, and oh he was so much closer now, enough to see the blue of Sora’s eyes again, patient and considering. That _something_ so dear, Vanitas could almost taste it. 

He moved forward, and the sand beneath his bare feet sunk curiously, constantly shifting the longer he stood in one place. It felt like Sora kept getting further away, and now that the water was cresting his thighs, Vanitas could really feel the push-pull, the fury rolled tight. Every step made him stumble embarrassingly so, and he wondered how Sora had made it seem so seamless. Of course, Sora had been born on raised on these islands. This was his home.

There was the occasional sharp poke of seashells, and Vanitas couldn’t technically see the waves as they came now that he was in their midst, only feel them. It was a heady thrilling fight against an enemy he couldn’t see, and some of that tribulation was alleviated as he gained his bearings. Sora was close enough that Vanitas could see the light on his collarbone, and the sheen of water on his forearms. 

A burst of competitive ire flashed through him. He’d go _past_ Sora, he’d show him he wasn’t fucking afraid. Who gave a shit about water at night?

Five feet away, and the water was ticklish and cold around his hips, made him shiver and his stomach contract from the sudden chill. 

Four feet away, and Sora was slowly grinning, hands treading water despite the fact he could still easily stand.

Three feet, and Vanitas wondered what the fuck had possessed him to go into the ocean at night.

Two, and he wondered if whatever was wrong about Sora was wrong with him, too.

One, and Sora’s hands were sliding up his arms, thumbs resting in the divot of his elbows. 

“Look!” Sora laughed, and his hands were hot, too hot, Vanitas’ stomach flipping. “I knew you’d do it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Vanitas said, and he took in the glimmer in Sora’s eyes, _right._ “I told you I wasn’t _scared.”_

“Didn’t say you were,” Sora hummed, thumbs rubbing dizzying circles into his skin, “I just said the ocean wasn’t scary.”

A wave rioted around them, and Sora laughed as it hit him square in the back, knocking him forward so that his chest bumped into Vanitas’, who instinctively braced himself against the sudden weight. It receded, and Sora pulled back maybe an inch. 

“Any further out is dangerous,” Sora said, quiet, “the waves are stronger, and you can’t see them as well. Plus, I don’t think you know how to swim.”

Well, he didn’t, but fuck if he was gonna admit that.

“But,” Sora grinned, white teeth a flash against tanned skin, and Vanitas wanted to rub his thumb along them, feel the ridge and dip and maybe press hard, “I can, and I’ve got you.”

“I said,” Vanitas’ mind was dizzyingly gone, lost in slow swipes of thumbs on his arms and smiles hiding something, _something,_ “I don’t need help.”

“Too bad,” Sora stuck his tongue out, then backed off, arms circling the tops of waves, and Vanitas bitterly felt that loss of warmth as cold water crashed into his stomach. Sora walked backwards boldly, and when a huge wave crashed into him it shocked a laugh out that rung clearer than anything else, ringing in Vanitas’ ears.

“Get back here!” Vanitas snapped, feeling like he’d somehow lost but what he didn’t know. Genuinely unafraid now, he tore into the water, but running was fucking impossible. 

“No!” Sora said back, laughter peppering the shout, and despite clearly being faster and capable of swimming, Sora remained walking as Vanitas struggled to race after him. Holy shit why was it so hard to _walk?_ “Gonna get here anytime soon? I’m falling asleep!” Sora feigned an exaggerated yawn, stretching one arm up high as he covered his mouth, and Vanitas scowled.

“Just wait,” Vanitas swore, and when he tried to shove the water out of the way he found it actually helped a little. Sora was trailing backwards, now moving parallel to the shore, and Vanitas mimicked the little waving movements he’d seen Sora do earlier. It helped marginally, but Vanitas would take what he could get. 

“Look at that! You’re halfway there!” Sora laughed, bright and loud, and the night felt that much closer, like a ribbon being pulled taut around his finger. Then, Sora changed trajectory, so that he was again walking away from the shore, further in.

Nervous, Vanitas stopped short, walking slower until he was between Sora and the shore. His chest was heaving; he was more strained by the exercise than he’d thought, though he wasn’t yet out of breath. 

Sora stopped too, bobbing in place as waves grew too high and he had to jump with them. There was no taunt this time, nothing mocking in his grin or his open gesture as he lifted his arms dripping from the waters, hands outheld.

It had never been mocking, Vanitas realized.

Just welcoming.

He swallowed hard and licked his lips, flabbergasted when he tasted salt. He hadn’t even realized he’d been splashed in the face at some point.

Sora mouthed something again. 

_Come here._

Vanitas walked.

Sora had been right, the waves _were_ rougher. Larger, swelling higher than he realized until it crested and slammed into his chest, and sometimes the ground disappeared from under his feet as he rose on the wave, inducing a panic so acute he gasped sharply, relieved when his feet touched back down.

Five feet away, and Vanitas watched as a wave took Sora higher before bringing him down.

Four feet away, and Vanitas finally found a rhythm in moving his arms.

Three feet, and Sora’s smile was so perfectly warm it erased any chill Vanitas might have felt.

Two, and Sora was reaching for him.

One, and Vanitas was reaching back.

Warm hands slid around his waist, lifting him, and Vanitas bit down to hold whatever he wanted to voice. His feet cleared the ground, but he was only a few inches up. Another wave hit Sora, who took the opportunity to walk into Vanitas and burrow his face into Vanitas’ chest. All that was left was for Vanitas to lower his arms around Sora’s shoulders, shudder at his hot breath on his collarbone, and wonder when this had all turned on its head.

“Thank you,” Sora said, and Vanitas frowned.

“For what?” He demanded, not complaining when he felt himself slide back down. 

Sora shrugged, a movement that made Vanitas firmly settle on the sand once more, and this close it was impossible to see anything but Sora. He was in shadow, wet sheen on skin making him almost glow, and when he tilted his head, his cheek was warm against Vanitas’. Then, something soft, chapped.

His breath hitched, fingers digging into Sora’s biceps where his hands had found purchase.

Sora pulled back maybe an inch, and grinned.

He felt Sora tense and jump when a wave crashed into them, and for a wonderful weightless moment, Vanitas felt nothing at all except the thrill of emptiness.

“You’re smiling,” Sora said and Vanitas touched his face with wet fingers to find that he was. “It looks nice,” Sora added.

Vanitas dropped it. “I don’t _smile,”_ he said, for lack of anything else in his brain. It felt fuzzy-soft, his thoughts clustered and tumbling over each other like dust bunnies or clouds or cotton.

“You could,” Sora countered, and without warning kissed his cheek again, “there it is!” Vanitas slapped a hand over it the moment Sora moved back, but because his skin was wet it elicited a _smack_ that almost echoed, and Sora’s blue eyes flew wide. He spluttered into laughter, and Vanitas grew hot in the face. 

“Shut up!” He said, and he grabbed Sora’s cheeks to squeeze them together. “I said I didn’t want help! Stop laughing!”

Sora couldn’t, eyes tearing up and cheeks flushed, framed as they were by Vanitas’ hands. He pressed harder, determined to make Sora’s skin as warm as Vanitas’ was. Sora wound his arms around Vanitas’ waist tighter, giggling uncontrollably.

“I,” Sora said, “oh my gosh,” then he kissed Vanitas’ nose, and the water chose that exact moment to slam into Sora’s back, dousing both of them thoroughly as Vanitas realized the entire time Sora had been anchoring them effortlessly. Vanitas spluttered, thrown entirely off his stride from the kiss and water, and he felt all at once useless and indignant, and something, _something, something—_

Sora buried his face in Vanitas’ neck, still laughing, and there was _something_ about feeling helpless giggles in his skin, like a gift, that made Vanitas want to let go of Sora and float, weightless. Instead, he dug his nails, surely painful but he didn’t care. 

When Sora pulled back, a wet slide of skin against skin, Vanitas cupped Sora’s face, and finally the last of his laughter died away.

For a long moment they floated in the sea at night, nothing but moonlight highlighting wet features and seeking eyes. The only sound was the constant crashing of surf and the wind whistling high above, but it felt muted and far away, second to the movement of the water around them. Despite it all, it was immeasurably quiet, cocooned.

“You never leave me alone,” Vanitas murmured into that pocket of sound. He thumbed Sora’s cheeks, a nervous thrill in his stomach that he _could_ do that. 

“I couldn’t,” Sora replied, eyes darting away, nervous and shy. His grip on Vanitas shifted slightly.

“Why?”

Sora shrugged, a weird movement as they were. “Because… I don’t know. I didn’t want to.”

 _Selfish,_ Vanitas thought, _good._ He’d take that over some dying martyr any day.

“I don’t need help,” Vanitas said again.

“I still want to give it,” Sora finally replied.

 _Want_ was even better, and Vanitas blinked water from his eyelashes. 

“Okay,” he said a last, and he leaned down to kiss Sora.

Salt, water, together a terrible combination, but Sora was _so_ warm, so tangible pressed against Vanitas like this. Sora muffled a sound, maybe something surprised, but he pressed back, tilting his head where Vanitas hadn’t thought to, so that they were closer, _warmer,_ and Vanitas could drown like this.

He had no idea what he was doing, but this was okay, better even, and he drew back first, surprisingly breathless. Sora’s eyes were closed, and that sent a nameless rush of exhilaration through Vanitas.

So he kissed Sora’s cheek twice, and then his nose, which made Sora laugh and open his eyes.

“Really?” He asked, grinning, “You have to get me back for that?”

Naturally.

“Come on,” Sora said, and Vanitas felt the tug of water against them as Sora headed towards the shore. “Enough swimming for tonight.” Vanitas was perfectly content to stay where he was at the moment, so he dropped his head against Sora’s shoulder, closing his eyes, and there it was.

That weightless, empty feeling, buoyed on water and anchored by Sora as he was.

Relief poured into that emptiness like water crashing into barren sun baked land, and Vanitas nearly wanted to weep. Instead, he dragged wet fingertips along Sora’s collarbone, and marveled that he could.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter | _oathbreaker
> 
> Sora says "trust me."
> 
> And yeah that's _Mystery Skulls - Ghost,_ though the real guilty sinner here is Tchaikovsky's _Valse Sentimentale._


End file.
